


show praise with your body

by haarucchii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Afterlife, Death is a Common Theme, Implied Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loose Concepts Revolving Around Religion, Loose Concepts of Time, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added as story goes on, Mostly Christianity but it's not very specified, Questioning Religion, Swearing, The Angel/Demon au that no one asked for, Tooru is an angel and Hajime is a demon, alcohol mention, alternate universe - freeform, life after death, mild body horror, slowbuild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haarucchii/pseuds/haarucchii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime fucked up.</p><p>But in hindsight, everyone else did too in some way. So he wasn't that concerned about it.</p><p>Not at all. </p><p>Nope.</p><p>It wasn't like everybody had an angel that was always on their back, relentlessly trying to get closer to him. Hajime wishes that he had the patience to handle this</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. constant things always stay constant

**Author's Note:**

> i love this fic and all but honestly this is gonna be a doozy

There’s a giant tree to the left of him that stretching up to the ceiling of their home, dark leaves touching the cloudy swirl of colours. Below, demons similar to people are talking to each other peacefully.

Hajime looks down at his hands, how his yellowed nails curved over his fingers with an obvious need to be cut. The skin of his arms are scaly and rough. The only part that isn’t like the rest are the vertical scars that run over the entirety of his forearms.

There’s something Hajime feels when he looks at his arms, like a brief flashback to his previous life before he had chosen to go the way he did. He didn’t expect to land… wherever he landed. There’s a slight pang he feels when he remembers that all this is actually real, as real as it could be.

He only sighs, pulls his hood up, and walks towards the doors that lead to where his next soul is, starting his next wave.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**A Day Before**

“Oi, Ichi.” Takahiro calls, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck as he returns from his first wave.

“Ichi?”

“If I’m correct, and I’m totally unsure on how to really spell your name, the characters for ‘Ichi’ should another way to spell ‘Hajime,’” Takahiro informs him.

“You remember Japanese characters but you can’t remember how you died?” Takahiro is, to say the least, much older than Hajime in terms of how long they have stayed down in their area. He is more knowledgeable about the happenings of their area, but Hajime doesn’t know how old Takahiro really is, nor how long he’s been here.

He never really bothered to ask-- it isn’t his business after all. All that Hajime knows of Takahiro is what the outside tells him, with blue-tinted skin and scales covering his body in layers and nearly full-grown horns. He knows that whatever happened with Takahiro, it’s nothing mild or something easily redeemable.

“Dying is a complex experience, Ichi.” Takahiro backs away from Hajime’s body, spreading his arms wide then cradling them to his chest. “It’s a painful experience, and the knowledge of our demise only reminds us of how we have fallen.”

Hajime eyes Takahiro, and even despite the clothes that drape over his skin like a curtain, there’s a curve on the inside where his body is bent in instead of the slight curve out. There’s nothing more he can really deduce from that, unlike where Hajime’s own death marks reside. “I guess that’s true,” he muses. “But Japanese characters are also just as complex.”

“Constant things will always stay constant,” Takahiro explaines. “Also, the more people drill it into your head, the more likely you remember it.”

“I bet you can’t even read it anymore,” Hajime fires back. “Besides, languages always change. If anything, math is the thing that is always constant, not Japanese or any other language.”

Takahiro looks at Hajime, and scans his body from the bottom to the top. “What are you even looking for?”

“I am scanning you, Ichi,” Takahiro replies monotonously. “Scan complete. Please wait for results.”

“What are you talking about—“ _How does he even know what a robot is?_ Hajime asks himself silently.

“Scan results: Two issues found,” Takahiro interrupts, reaching out robotically and grabbing Hajime’s face. “Issue one: You’re pretty handsome if you take away all the ugly parts of you.”

“Okay first of all, _of course a person would look handsome if you take it away—“_

“Issue number two:” Takahiro continues, dragging his hand from Hajime’s cheek to his mouth, “You were a math nerd and nothing will change that about you.”

“I don’t even remember what I was even good at in school.”  Hajime feels like that’s a lie. There’s something tugging in the corner of his mind and there are flashbacks to when he was alive of papers with red marks and the faded grades at the top.

He doesn’t say anything when Takahiro stares at him with guarded eyes. “Ichi, if you remember your death, then you remember everything that came before that.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime asks warily, taking a step back from Takahiro’s sudden seriousness. He glances back to his forearms, and there’s another uncomfortable feeling of not knowing things as well as he should know them.

“Memories are a slideshow,” Takahiro explains, walking forward towards their housing units. Hajime follows him. “They may be jumbled and confusing when it comes to you at first—hell, they might not even come to you for the first hundred years after coming down here.” He kicks his leg out and throws his head up, staring at the dark swirl of clouds that hang above them. “But the more you experience down here, can correspond to those memories from up there, and you remember them.

“But weirdly, though the marks that are left on our body are the only reminders of how we die, those memories rarely ever pop up immediately. That’s the end of our slideshow, the end of our lives.” Takahiro stops to spin on his foot to face Hajime, throwing his arms up and crossed them behind his back. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Hajime stumbles over his own feet, too immersed in Takahiro’s explanation.

“If you remember how you die, and your life before it, you get the chance to be reincarnated,” Takahiro whispers, with his hands cupped around his mouth, like it’s some kind of gigantic secret.  “Would you do it?”

“Is reincarnation even real?”  

Takahiro only gives him that smile, the one that sends shivers up his spine in a way that isn’t good, and turns back around. “Only if you believe in it.”

He continues on walking with a skip in his step.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Current Day**

There’s something strange about the world around her, Yui thinks as she surveys the area around her.

There isn’t the sound of honking cars or loud voices that’s almost constantly heard from her small apartment room, and she finds herself strewn across her bathroom floor with no recollection on how she got there.

 _This is really, really weird,_ she thinks. _Where are all the people? Where is everyone?_

  
  
  


There isn’t much to do. Yui spreads herself on her bathroom floor, looking at the colourless ceiling that she swore was coloured a pale pink when she looked at it last.

She stands up again, spins in a circle and smacks her face— _When in doubt, explore!_ she tells herself, leaving the bathroom in quick strides and heading down the staircase that leads down to the used-to-be busy streets.

(She ignores the slight pushes of air that hit her as she paces down, and ignores the way that the buildings that were previously brightly coloured have turned to ash greys, whites and blacks—ignoring the way everything looks like an old movie except for her, full of colour and confusion.)

She travels down the streets, looking into Yamamoto-san’s bakery, who has the toughest bread but the _best_ pastries. She travels past and around Karasuno High School, remembering the times with her old volleyball team. Yui looks at the tall building in quiet reminiscence, and remembers the fun times she spent there with her old volleyball team. A couple blocks down the hill, there’s the old convenience store run by the Ukai family, with Grandpa Ukai, a grumpy old man who always threw his customers out the doors when they didn’t have enough money.

The quietness of the city had felt restless to Yui in the beginning, but now it seems to give her the quiet peace needed for saying goodbyes. So that’s what she does. She walks down the streets, watching as the cars drive past silently, heavy exhaust billowing out from their backs. She stops in front of her parents’ house, smiling and bowing down until her head is level with her hips.

“Thank you for all you have done for me. Goodbye, I love you guys,” she whispers, then brings herself back up and treks towards her next location, thanking and sending farewells to the people who have done her well in her life.

 _If only I had enough time to say this to them in person_ , she thinks to herself.

She walks up the streets along the curb with her arms stretched out to keep her balance. She lets out a low whistle, listening as it echoes dully through the quiet areas. She remembers the times that she would spend with her volleyball team, hanging onto each other in laughter and joy, their underclassmen laughing and playing along with them.

She remembers the time when she and Mao had spent all their money to pay for everyone’s meat buns, because of a bet they ended up losing (“How long do you think it will take until Kageyama and Hinata make up?” They lost by three weeks). Yui lets out a quiet scoff, she always did have bad luck with bets.

She hops off the curb, thinking about those gym classes where they had to run along the road that was similar to this one. Running was a nice thing, fun and relaxing. She always enjoyed running for track and volleyball. Yui looks up at the sky, watching the clear sky. She takes a deep breath and hikes up her _Hello Kitty_ themed pants to stretch her legs.

 _I’ll go for a little run_ , she thinks to herself, _I don’t have anything to do anyways._ She stretches her arms out for a moment, and starts to jog around, humming along to the tune in her head. She ignores the way her lungs seem to burn, and curses the fact that her throat constricts when she coughs.

Before she realizes it, the light colour of the sky turns to a murky grey by the time she finishes her run. The light colours of the moon give a subtle feeling of darkness around her. Yui sits down at the curb with aching legs, and waits, closing her eyes and waiting for sleep to take over.

She isn’t sure for what, but she just waits. For something, or someone.

Anything, really.

  
  
  


The sleepy feeling never came, from the time she settles herself on the curb to when she sees someone in a large cloak headed towards her in the dead of the night, as far as she could tell. As they near, she looks up at the starry sky-- one that couldn’t have been seen with the air pollution in her busy city-- and sighs.  

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” she asks in resignation. The figure nods, and they look up at the sky too, uttering only two words.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and stands up to dust off the bottom of her pants, sending a thin smile to the person whose face is covered by their hood. “Let’s go, shall we?”

 


	2. no one wants to die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life doesn't go the way you want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are minor implications towards child abuse, so please take caution when you're going to read this chapter, starting from when Tadashi enters, until the scene ends.

The souls Hajime had collected so far were always so quiet—broken down and resigned-- but the woman in front of him has a skip in her step and a smile that made Hajime feel guilty that she was also a person who had to go to the Underworld with him. 

“So, what’s Hell like?” she asks him, trying to peer under his hood with curious eyes. Quickly enough, he pulls away and looks in the opposite direction. No one needs to see his face just yet, not until they are at the doors. “ _ Fine,  _ don’t show me! But I’ll see it sooner or later!” Yui presses a finger against his chest, walking backwards as he continued on forwards. 

Hajime just smiles under his hood. “Okay,” he replies, and dips his head to dodge Yui’s next attempt to sneak a peek. 

“But seriously,” she continues on, turning on the ball of her foot and walking side-by-side with him, “Are you like a demon who eats my soul? Am I just a spiritual embodiment of my physical body? Please tell me that I do get a new set of clothes when we get down to Hell, because I can’t believe I died in my  _ Hello Kitty  _ pajamas.” 

Hajime looks at Yui’s clothes once again, stifling a laugh as he sees the animated cat on her shirt and pants, that’s  _ Hello Kitty _ , he presumes. “No, yes, and if you want.” 

“You’re a man of few words, Demon-kun!” She pauses. “ _ Person,”  _ she corrects herself. “Do demons even have genders? Or do you guys just choose your gender when you get down there?” She pauses again. “Will I be able to stay the same way I was?”

Hajime looks at her face, lips pursed out and eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t really dwell on my own gender, but I guess it depends on you when you get there,” he finally replies. “And… don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you, and everyone we meet, about what happens at the end.”

Yui huffs, and looks down at her feet. “…Are we going to be okay?”

Hajime looks into distance, empty cars running down the streets with the colourless sky accompanying them. “Yeah, you all will.”  _ Hopefully,  _ he adds in silence.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

“Do you remember your past?” 

Yui’s question throws Hajime off his train of thought for a moment. “No, I don’t remember a lot of it,” he tells her. 

“I don’t remember my death.” Yui folds her hands behind her back again, the way she would always do when she was curious about the topic. “Is that normal?”

“Yeah,” Hajime replies. “It’s normal for people to not remember their deaths when they wake up here. More of a psychology thing, I guess.”

(“Why, though?” Hajime asks Takahiro one day, when they are drafted together. Hajime’s second wave and Takahiro’s unnumbered one.

“It’s too shocking,” he says. “Imagine getting hit by a car, feeling the pain of death warming over. Then you wake up in an empty setting where no one is there, and you’re just lying on the ground. It would  _ definitely _ fuck a person up somehow.”

“I see.”

But he doesn’t, not really.)

“Is that a person over there?” Yui asks, changing the subject with an awkward dart of her eyes. Hajime turns to where the woman had pointed to, looking at the faded figure in the distance. 

“No, it isn’t.” The two of them turn into the alley that was located beside them, and continues to trek on. “Those people are usually the ones in a comatose. We usually stray away from those types and let special divisions handle that.”

“How do you know?”

“You look at their bodies,” Hajime informs her, remembering how pale that person was. They should’ve been close to returning to their lives back on Earth. “The paler they are or the more solid they look, it depends on how connected they are to the earth, thus, how closer they are to returning to their bodies.” 

Yui looks down at her own body, and nods in thought. “I’m completely solid,” she says, more to herself. “Does that mean I can’t return back to my own body?”

Hajime shakes his head mournfully. “No, you can’t return to your body once your body looks solid.”

Yui looks down at her slippers, and sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” Hajime apologizes. He doesn’t know why he does, but Yui only smiles at him in some concealed emotion. 

“Why are you apologizing?” she asks him. “It’s not like you caused my death.”

Hajime stays silent for a moment longer. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, more firmly. 

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hajime and Yui had find another child on their walk together around the city near midday, seven years old with wide eyes and shaking hands. The child perks up once he sees the two of them walking towards him in something similar to a mourning state. 

“Where am I, onii-chan?” he asks, peering up with a frightened look. “Why is it so different here? Why aren’t there any people?” He pulls his legs to his chest from his crossed-legged position and rests his forehead on his knees. “Why are you and the onee-chan the only ones who are here? There’s no one outside here,” his muffled voice continues. “My mom tells me I wasn’t allowed to go outside, but I did because I saw my friend from school. Did I make a mistake? Is my mom punishing me for this?” 

Hajime faintly remembers the child’s name from his list-- little Yamaguchi Tadashi who died from an incoming car. From the side he can see how the impact of the car had affected the young boy, how his right side is slightly more deformed from the rest. 

Yui looks at Hajime as he pauses in his tracks, collecting his thoughts with a tense stance, and watches his fists clench and unclench in agitation. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, and thinks to himself,  _ I’ve been apologizing a lot today.  _ “You’re just really, really far from home.”

“Will I make it back home?” Tadashi asks, shoulders raising and eyes sparkling. Hajime shakes his head, and Tadashi’s shoulders drop again. 

“I don’t think this is a trip you can easily make back home,” 

“Little boy,” Yui chides gently, and Tadashi’s gaze drifts from Hajime to her. “Do you want to walk around with us? We’re looking for more people.” 

“My wave is almost done,” Hajime informs her. “We’ll be heading back to the doors soon.” Tadashi and Yui only look at him in confusion, but nod anyways.

“Will I be able to see my mom?” Tadashi asks. “I haven’t even said goodbye to her yet.” 

Hajime bites his lips. Taking children was always so hard, no child deserves to die so early in their lives when they still don’t even know what is going on. “I don’t think you can, kid.”

“My mom is going to get so angry,” Tadashi whispers, eyes glazed as he looks down with shaking shoulders. “I don’t want her to get angry, if she has to go and look for me she’s going to get really angry and lock me in my room again.”

“Holy  _ shit,”  _ Yui whispers under her breath. “She won’t get angry,” she says. “She’ll understand that you can’t make it home.” Her voice breaks, and Tadashi looks at her in confusion. 

“Onee-chan, are you upset? Please don’t be upset! Mom gets angry at me for making girls upset.” Almost instinctively, Tadashi holds his torso like he’s trying to defend himself. Hajime looks at Yui, who lifts her hand to her face.

“I’m not upset at you,” Yui manages to get out. “It’s just that you’re  _ such a cute kid. _ ” Tadashi smiles toothily, and nods.

“Thank you, onee-chan!”

“We have to go,” Hajime tells the two of them, looking up at the falling sun and peering into the distance with thought. “The doors will appear soon, so we should stay here.”

He looks at Yui and Tadashi once again. “I guess today is a good day, huh.” 

They only respond in soundless confusion, tilting their heads similarly to the side with a quirked eyebrow. Hajime smiles, and shakes his head, “It’s nothing.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

The doors to the Underworld are always very conspicuous, brown edges with gold linings with figures and animals around it. The handle is silver, and is the only colourful thing in this colourless world. 

Somewhere along the way to the doors, another man had joined their team of three. Old Man Nekomata, who had died of a stroke while on his way to visit Ukai-san, who was working at his convenience store. 

Yui had quickly exclaimed her surprise when she first saw him, “He’s like, 74 years old,” she whispers to Hajime. “Daichi and Kuroo-san had a bet about how long it would take till he retires.”

“I wasn’t retired yet!” Nekomata laughs joyfully, swinging his arm and hitting Hajime square in the back. “I guess having 2 strokes is the limit for this old body!” After his loud exclamation, the old man bends down for a moment to cough. 

Hajime side-eyes the old man, taking a cautious step forward and nodding. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he thinks that it might be his catchphrase, or something similar to it. 

“Don’t say sorry!” Nekomata coughs out. “If an old man like me has to die, so be it!” He snorts. “I lived a long enough life, and honestly, I’m surprised that no one tried assassinating me before I died.”

“Why is that so?” 

Nekomata’s demeanor drops slightly, biting his lips and looking off to the side. “Being a coach makes you either a loved person, or a hated one. It all depends on the person, and with how I taught my kids, there must’ve been a few who hadn’t liked me all too much in my years of teaching.”

Hajime nods. “I see,” he answers. Then he smiles. “Well, they didn’t hate you enough to kill you, so that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Nekomata grins back, and Hajime wonders if he had ever had a relative like Nekomata. The coach laughs, hands against his stomach with a wheeze in between. “Geez, I make it sound like I’m some huge corporate business tycoon who only cares about money.”

“Good thing you weren’t,” Yui adds on playfully, lips curling into a smile. “You wouldn’t be this nice if you had been.”

Nekomata looks at Yui, squints, and then grins widely. “Ah! You were Daichi’s little girlfriend, right?”

Yui looks taken aback. “Uh, yeah,” she laughs. “Didn’t know you knew that..”

“Thought that entire team was gay,” Nekomata hums. “At least one person was straight. When Kuroo was in his third year, everyone was gay. Or  _ bi.  _ Yaku once tried teaching me it when I started calling everyone gay, but I said to him, ‘ _ I’m your teacher, and I don’t need to know what kind of people you’re into as long as you can play perfectly,’ _ ” Nekomata breathes out, looking at Hajime with a sad smile. “I miss that group— one of the best teams I have ever taught, in terms of teamwork.”  

Hajime laughs, and so does Yui.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hajime stares at the doors, and looks behind to his three companions. “And I thought this was going to be some long, winding journey across the continent in a search for souls,” Yui muses, and Tadashi looks up with a runny nose and pouty face. 

“Are we here?” he asks. “My feet are tired.” 

“We’re here,” Hajime tells him. Yui gives an apprehentious look to the door. “So, as you guys know, you’re dead.” 

The three of them chorus a series of answers, Tadashi giving the more surprised noise. “D-d-dead?” he stammers. “I can’t be dead! I’m-- I’m breathing right now. There are  _ people  _ here now.” His voice drops low to a whisper, “I can’t be dead.” 

Hajime casts a look to Yui, who sends a distressed look to Nekomata, who shrugs and returns a confused glance back at Hajime. “Uhm,--” Hajime pauses, “Yeah, you are.”

“I know that people die.” Tadashi stares at the doors, then back at Hajime, who is still hooded and concealed. “Do you live on the other side of that door?” 

“Yes.”

“I didn’t want to die.”

“I know you didn’t.” 

“I can’t just, you know, come back to life?” 

“I’m sorry, you can’t.” 

“Is this heaven?”

Hajime doesn’t look at the three people, who probably think he’s some angel that’s leading them to heaven, or paradise, or whatever they believe in.

This is the hardest part of it all.

“It isn’t.” Hajime fiddles with the ends of his sleeves. “You, us,  _ humans,  _ don’t normally end up in Heaven.”

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, as the playful air dissolves. “What do you mean?”

Hajime bites his lip. “You go to the Underworld, a place where you get redeemed for your sins. I’m not sure about it in much detail, but I know that no amount of prayers would help your cause.”

“I won’t go to heaven?” 

“I always knew that I’d go to hell,” Nekomata murmurs. “But I guess I always had the thought that maybe the good I had done ended up redeeming myself for it all.”

“I knew you weren’t something good.” Yui pauses. “Or at least, nothing that leads to the best.” 

Hajime sighs. “Now I’m going to show you my face, because you all will also look something similar to me.” He lifts his arms, and he can feel Yui’s anticipation come off in waves. 

They take a deep breath in when Hajime finally reveals his face, scaled and rough with dry, bloodied lips from his sharp teeth. His face is a bluish pale from the lack of blood that used to circulate through him. “You got what you wanted, hey?” Hajime asks, question directed to Yui, in reference to when they first started in the beginning of the day, with a wistful smile. 

Yui only darts her eyes away from him, and Hajime sighs. 

“Just enter through the doors, and you guys will know everything else soon enough.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my laptop is broken, so it'll be hard to write how, bc i cant use my moms laptop bc thats used by my family. srry


	3. i'm not jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for body horror in this chapter. it's much more detailed because more people are introduced and their sins are really _bad_
> 
> also graphic descriptions of gore, starting from 'When he opens his eyes, ' to 'reminding Hajime the exact reason why he’s there.'. This part is basically a description of when the "demons" get a memory, and how it's used to be a tactic for souls to want to reach redemption and such. If you aren't good with gory scenes or really descriptive body horror, then please don't read this part. it isn't worth it to hurt your mind over a story ahaha.

He follows after them when they walk through the door in a silent, single file. He closes his eyes as he walks through the brown door, listens to it shut behind him, and walks through the darkness again. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s exiting the giant tree with a heavy heart. Yui, Tadashi and Nekomata aren’t anywhere near him, and he knows they are being registered into the system and in the process of having their memories being sealed away. 

He wonders if they will be placed in his area, or sent away to be in a less populated area. 

Three other people exit the tree at the same time as him, and the fallen angels that reside in the tree look down at them in mixed emotions: pity, thankfulness, and sadness. Hajime looks back down and nods his head, continuing his own steps ahead. In front of him, Takahiro gives a bitter smile and pats his back as Hajime approaches him with slumped steps. 

“Rough time?” Takahiro asks, and Hajime nods tiredly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

There’s something similar to a cliff that overlooks the orientation for new souls that happens daily-- Hajime always watches it. 

The Fallen Angels stand atop of the tree, and the collected crowds stare up at them in confusion, erased memories and new lives prepared for them. 

Lucifer starts first, as he was the first angel to fall. He raises his arms and waves to silence everyone. “My children,” he starts, “welcome.” 

There’s a chorus of greetings back, in different languages of different people. Hajime stares at the other hooded angels as Lucifer reaches up and removes his robe to show his own grotesque body. 

His skin is a purple-blue colour, nails long enough to look like claws, yellowed and curled. His body looks similar to someone who had been skinned alive, but had also stopped halfway through.  His face is deformed, sunken eyes and cheeks burned to show sharp teeth and a forked tongue. 

Aside from their orientation, they would rarely be seen talking.

Atop their heads reside horns, curled and looking like something Hajime had seen in a book. There is dead skin that curls around the base of the horns. Hajime instinctively reaches up to touch his own little stubs, sharp teeth biting his lips, breaking the skin again. He knows, under all their hoods, the Fallen Angels look the same, aside from other changes that may be a little better, or worse.

“Is this your daily horn touch?” Takahiro muses behind him, sitting beside Hajime to watch the orientation. “How was it?”

“I got three souls, it’s kind of a slow day.”

“’s good.” Takahiro swings his legs and leans back, lying on the rocky ground. He stares at the swirl of clouds, and sighs. “Did you get any new memories?” 

“Nope.” Hajime copies his position, and listens to the gasps of the people below them. He imagines them finally looking down at their bodies, eyes bulging and sharp nails clawing down their faces to peel the skin-- creating marks and screaming at the newfound information of their ruined bodies. He thinks of the Fallen Angels closing their eyes in silent pain and confusion. It’s always the same reaction that happens. 

He thinks back to his own reaction, gripping his fist. His death mark was glaring at him, the only part of his body that wasn’t marked was  _ that part.  _

He doesn’t want to remember it. 

“Did you remember anything today?” Hajime feels obligated to ask, and Takahiro’s lips curl into a snarky smile. 

“I remembered I was a superstar,” Takahiro hums. “The girls chased after me, I had to go to only  _ select  _ washrooms or else I would be found. It was a very successful life.” 

“You’re lying.”

“How do you know?” 

“You told me two weeks ago that you were an unknown local artist who lived in Russia during a war.”

“Well, shit.”

Hajime lets out a sharp laugh, and he thinks about his own memories. He closes his eyes, feeling fatigue beneath his eyes from the day’s work.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

When he opens his eyes, he’s five years old with a volleyball in his hands. 

There’s a little boy in front of him, arms up in the air in an arch, and he snaps out, “Iwa-chan! Hurry up! My arms are tired.” The boy is wearing a shirt with a grey figure on it in the shape of an upside down tear drop. 

Hajime looks at the kid, but his voice escapes him before he realizes it. “Shut up, Oikawa! I’ll serve the ball when I’m good and ready!” 

Oikawa looks at him and sticks his tongue out. “Just because I’m better doesn’t mean that you have to be so jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!” 

Oikawa smiles. “Don’t lie Iwa-chan!”

The colours around him fade from a pastel background, light blues and greens and browns, and the trees melt around them into puddles of black, sticky goo. The sky’s colours become inverted, from a blue to a burning red and the light clouds around them turn into a black shapes. 

The cheerful tones and songs of the birds around them drop into screams, as if they are being murdered.

Tooru’s face melts down, eyes falling out of its sockets and smile melting as if it were a painting with its paint being washed out. His brown hair slowly falls off his head, and there is the horrifying figure that used to be something similar to just another five year old kid. 

“Lying is bad.” Tooru’s voice goes from soothing and melodic to discordant and  _ dying.  _ “You shouldn’t lie,  _ Hajime.”  _ His name on Oikawa’s lips sounds like poison to his ears. In Hajime’s hands, something moves.

With a shaking breath, Hajime looks down. 

Replaced with the volleyball he was about to serve is his head, bloodied near the base and eyes wide with an animalistic snarl on his lips. It murmurs the same thing, over and over in low chants. “I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous.” His head shakes violently ,eyes bulging and skin falling off the bones. 

_ “I’mnotjealousI’mnotjealousI’mnotjealous.” _

Around him, a voice booms. It is everyone’s: Oikawa’s, his own, and the high screams of the birds around them. “ _ REPENT,”  _ it bellows, reminding Hajime the exact reason why he’s there.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Then, just as quickly as it came. 

It ends. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

When he opens his eyes, his limbs flail out and he kicks his legs out, throwing his body forward. Takahiro catches him as he gasps out for air, and Hajime is brought to his chest with heaving breaths. His body convulses for a moment, moving on its own before Hajime can control his own movements.

“It’s okay,” Takahiro mutters. “It’s going to be okay.” He rubs his hands down Hajime’s back soothingly.

Hajime feels his heart pounding. His breath is still laboured as the images of Oikawa and his head, mutilated and bloodied, still linger vividly in his mind. 

Takahiro whispers the words that are always spoken when another gets a new memory, something meant to be calming but only brings more anxiety into Hajime’s thoughts. “You can work this off, just reflect on your actions and move on. You can always move on.”  _ But what if I can’t?  _ he thinks, but then only focuses on how start breathing properly once again. 

“It’s only going to get worse from here on out, Mr. Five-Memories”

Hajime lets out another shaky breath, and he grips and rips his shirt. “That was horrifying,” he whispers, throat dry.

“What was it this time?” Takahiro is possibly the only person that can ask Hajime that and get a straight answer. 

“I lied.” 

Takahiro winces. “That’s gotta suck.” 

Hajime nods, staring at the ground beneath them. “It sucks for that to be one of the worst sins. I mean, it doesn’t really make much sense for it to be that at  _ all.  _ I mean, adultery and disrespecting parents? Should be lower than those two.”

“I know, right?” Takahiro pauses. “But for you to have such a huge reaction…”  _ There has to be something else.  _

Hajime winces. “I think I also had jealousy in there.”

“Lying about jealousy?” 

“Yep.”

“Good job,” Takahiro looks away, knowing that it isn’t the entire deal. “I mean that in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a dick.” Takahiro shakes his head, coughing into his hand. “Anyways, are you alright? Lying and jealousy is pretty bad, and it seemed like the backlash of that memory hit you really hard.” 

“I’m okay,” Hajime murmurs. “As okay as I can be.” 

Takahiro pats Hajime’s shoulder. “At least the ceremony is done, so we can just hang out at Daichi’s for the rest of the day.”

“You don’t even need to watch the ceremony.”

“But who else will witness   _ the  _ Hajime’s daily horn touch?”

“It’s not daily.” Hajime rolls his eyes.

“I’ve known you for the past fifty years, Hajime.” Takahiro copies his actions, and Hajime thinks about it. “It’s daily.”

“Oh my god, you’re right.” Hajime reaches up to feel his horn stub again, ignoring Takahiro’s exclamation of ‘ _ He did it twice in a day!’  _ “Has it really been every day?” 

Takahiro nods, and shrugs with his arms out. “Fifty years of watching your weird horn touch,  _ and _ hauling your ass around-- and you only  _ just _ received your fifth memory.” 

“You can’t say that  _ you’re  _ hauling  _ my  _ ass around, considering the fact that you got stuck in Daichi’s window and had to call for my help, just three weeks ago.”

“I was drunk and you know it.”

“How did you even get drunk? I thought Shimizu had confiscated all the liquor rewards because of the incident forty years ago.”

Both of them shudder. They don’t talk about forty years ago. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

“And so after Yui leaves, this guy in the middle of his transformation starts talking to me, as if he didn’t just die,” Chikara continues his story. “And he was like, ‘ _ Do you wanna go out with me?’,  _ and I replied with, ‘ _ But we’re not allowed to go out.’ _

_ “‘Why not?’ _

_ “‘Well for one, only soul collectors could go there.’.”  _ Chikara rolls his eyes and sighed. “New souls are always so dim.” Hajime snickers.

“I think he was trying to hit you up.” 

At Takahiro’s statement, both Chikara and Hajime gave him blank, dull looks. 

“You guys should know what that means.”

“How do you know what it means?” Hajime counters. Takahiro huffs and smiles, bringing a hand under his chin and smiling innocently. 

“I am the one who is  _ technically  _ older than all of you.”

“You’re too old,” Chikara starts jeering. 

“Go get reincarnated already.”

“We’ll replace you anyways.”

Chikara’s room has always been the place for spending time, considering his place is pretty cozy-- a couch for resting, situated in front of a window that had a view of the giant tree. Hajime only goes to his room to sleep, and Takahiro never really seems to have slept at all.

“You guys are so  _ mean, _ ” Takahiro whines, lying down and spreading himself over Hajime’s lap.

“Get off!”

“Shh! Shimizu will murder us if we make too much noise.” 

“What do you mean? We’re already dead.”

“She’ll kill us again!”

“Okay-- back to the subject,” Takahiro cuts off Hajime and Chikara’s conversation before it goes off the rails, like the many, many times before. “I think that Kenji guy was trying to, how the young kids say--”

“You aren’t even a young kid, though.”

“ _ Shut the fuck up,--”  _ Takahiro hisses. “I think he was trying to get you to date him.”

“What’s dating?”

“Isn’t that a fruit in the human world?” 

“Maybe a vegetable?” 

“Not sure.” 

“Wait-- I think that’s called a raisin,” Chikara gasps, hitting his palm with a fist. “Is that why so many people are coming to the underworld now? Because  _ raise-sin _ ?” 

“I…” Hajime tries thinking of a reason why it didn’t really work, but he couldn’t think of it. “I don’t even know, Chikara.”

“Do you guys even read the reference books?” Takahiro groans, exasperated. “The human slang book has been updated by the researchers.”

Chikara nods, and Hajime gulps. “You didn’t? Marya isn’t going to be happy.” 

“I didn’t read about human behaviours yet, sue me.” 

“At least you know that term.”

“Be quiet.” Hajime scowls. Chikara stares at Hajime for a moment, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Is something wrong, Chikara?” 

He shakes his head. “I saw in the computers that you got a new memory today; how was it?” 

Hajime shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, it was intense, I guess.”

“Five minutes into the memory state and he started convulsing,” Takahiro helps Chikara’s curiosity. “Seven minutes later he woke up-- almost fell off the cliff.” 

“Are you okay?” 

Hajime shrugs again. “I guess, I mean-- I am okay, I guess.”

Chikara clicks his tongue. “If you say so.” Hajime smiles back at him, showing off his sharp teeth. “You’re guessing a lot,”

“I know so.”  Hajime’s smile turns into a grin. “I guess.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

They meet Kenji when he’s as dull and dim as a newborn  _ demon _ , and he looks at Chikara blankly when they approach him. 

“I’m not--” He stops to find the words. “I don’t..” He purses his lips, not yet forming the words properly. 

“It’s okay,” Hajime chides, throwing his arm around Kenji’s shoulder. “Just know that you’re in love with this guy.” 

“Please, shut up.” Chikara rolls his eyes.  “I’m here to give you a tour around here, since you might have been left here alone, judging by how confused you look.”

Kenji nods, still unable to form the words that will come back to him in a little. “First of all,” Chikara points into the distance, “those are the housing units. Normally we, as people who are already dead, don’t really need to sleep, normally people would place any souvenirs they have collected during their times here. You can sleep though, because it’s nice to rest your eyes at times.” 

“But Chikara-sensei,” Takahiro starts, “what is the area beside the housing units?” His voice is pitched higher, imitating Kenji’s voice. 

“Good question.” Chikara winks. “Those are stores where you can buy your own nutrients from. Normally you get a regular monetary compensation after doing a certain amount of years of free labour, depending on how long you’re staying here. You should find a friend who will help you eat. Like sleeping, you don’t need it but it’s always nice to eat.”

“Kind of weird because you will never take a shit though,” Hajime chimes. 

“It just stays in your stomach and dissolves, we don’t really know where it goes.” 

“You’ll just have this eternal feeling of constipation.” 

“Probably another type of punishment for being down here.”

“Type of punishment?” Takahiro continues to voice over Kenji’s questions, despite Kenji not looking like he wants to know all this.  

“Yes! Down here, there are many types of punishments that go on around. As you know, you don’t currently have any memories of the life you have had before you have came here, and this is all part of the plan that the Big Guy up there planned for us.” Chikara’s smile becomes sly, eyes narrowing down dangerously. “You want to know?”

“Yes!” Takahiro exclaims, despite Kenji shaking his head. “Shush, you want to know.” 

“We are destined for punishment, we are down here to suffer,” Chikara whispers, leaning closer to Kenji with their foreheads nearly touching. “The Big Guy didn’t like humans after he made them, like some kid who got a brand new toy then got bored of it so they tossed it into some obscure corner and left them to rot, fend for itself.” He sighs, looking up at the wisps of air above them, swirling around. 

“The only things he likes are things that don’t betray him, or lie to him. Adam and Eve fucked all of us over.” 

They start cooing playfully when Kenji finally croaks out his first words, “So does he like anything else now?” 

Hajime points up to the sky again. “There are these things called angels. Pretentious and pompous as  _ fuck,  _ but haven’t lost the Big Guy’s faith yet, so they are living it up in Paradise right now.” 

“How do you know they’re pretentious. Have you met with them?” 

“I haven’t been here long enough to be terrorized by them, but if you ask one of the older people here, they’ll tell you stories about how angels fuck everything up,” Takahiro says. “You should talk to Koushi about this if you have questions-- one of the oldest ones here. He works in memory storage and help.” 

Kenji bites his lip. “Are angels that bad?” 

“From our experience, they are.” Takahiro clicks his tongue when Hajime continues, “In mythology, normally the angels are praised for being the good and pure, but in order to be good and pure they don’t really have a sense what’s bad or dirty. Basically whatever they think is good, would be good. We’re like the underdog types. No one really likes us because we work in the background, but we help make things functional and help. Angels can’t empathize with us.” 

“How do you know this?” 

“There’s a library that people go to when they’re curious. There are people who go up to earth, or stay in limbo, and start studying and working there. Something similar to a field worker. If you want to have a certain job, you need to study the basics first, like languages and the studying of Human Behaviour, because all the jobs involve dealing with other people’s behaviour.” 

“What are the jobs?”

“Jobs are things that make us want to die again.” Takahiro pouts. “I hate it.” 

“The jobs vary. I can’t name them from the top of my head.” Chikara hums, swatting Takahiro away from the very frightened Kenji. “Recently there has been a need to recruit soul collectors, people who collect souls and bring them down here. And also jobs dealing with memories and logging people into the Underworld. There’s a lot of people who are finally leaving, so there’ll be a high demand for those too.”

“Why are they leaving?” 

Their terms are nearly done, so they’ll probably choose to reincarnate themselves after they receive their last memory. There will be a decrease in people which means an increase for jobs.”

Kenji nods when Hajime and Takahiro stare at him expectantly. Leaning forward, he cups his hands over Chikara’s ears and whispers, “Why are they staring at me?”

“Just ignore them,” he whispers back, then waits until Kenji steps back with his hands falling to the side again. “You got everything?” Kenji nods. “Okay, if you need any more help, or want to know anything else, you can either visit us, or Koushi, who’s also very nice.” 

“Okay,” Kenji says. “Thanks.” 

“It’s nothing.”  _ Quite literally,  _ Hajime thinks. “These are just basics, so you’ll learn more soon. Like the feeling of when your first memory comes in, versus the first memory of you performing a sin.” 

Kenji looks at them in confusion. “What do you mean-”

“Shimizu to your left,” Takahiro mutters, nudging both Hajime and Chikara. “We aren’t allowed here, remember? Residents aren’t allowed to talk to Newbies.” 

“Bye,” Chikara hisses out, eyes darting to his left, where Shimizu is stalking her way over. “Don’t tell her we were here!” 

“What?” And with that, they bolt out of there with Kenji exclaiming a “Wait!” and a helpless squeak.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, so this is technically the end of introductions of Hajime's world. Next chapter will hopefully feature Tooru and how Hajime fucks up, as said in the summary
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> []()


	4. for the agedashi tofu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime's not a very smart boy, and he's caught the attention of a pretty smart angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter doesn't have any trigger warnings, aside from descriptive body horror concerning the characters. There's also some descriptions of fire and burned skin, so please take caution of that too!

In the seventy years that Hajime had been living in the Underworld, the amount of times that he would have heard the talk about angels, aside from the orientation, would be close to none. 

It wasn’t like it was a taboo subject. There was a section in the Otherworldly Studies area in the library that was dedicated to the study of Angels. It was just that nobody really cared enough for it. 

More often than not, Hajime catches himself staring up at the sky while he stays in Limbo. He imagines people flying with wings and porcelain skin, so fragile as if they were glass. He imagines people staring down at him, and others, with snobby grins and hands to their mouths, watching as Underworld residents worked away to even get a glimpse of their life before. 

He imagines angels with perfect hair, minds filled with sermons for a Lord that doesn’t bother to respond. He imagines them doing what they think is good, when instead it would fuck everyone up. Hajime hopes that he doesn’t meet an angel in his time, and that’s the first time he ever hopes to God about something other than to just get through the day of souls.

Hajime wonders if angels even have a life to think back on, before being created as perfect beings. They probably wouldn’t, because there wouldn’t be anything better than paradise. 

He sighs, staring up at the grey clouds and listening to the steady strums of strings that play next door. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

To be frank, maybe taking up two shifts in a row wasn’t the  _ best  _ idea. He hasn’t been back in the Underworld for a month, and he still has two more weeks to go. For the first time, he thinks, this would be the closest thing to feeling tired, mind working sluggishly and his feet drag along the roads as he walks, soles grating the gravel. 

He doesn’t really expect to see anything, he knows. There aren’t many accidents that happen around this part of town, where there’s a lack of buildings and the wind is blowing with nothing stopping it’s direction. 

He should be where the hospitals are, where the busiest streets would intersect and wait for the moment two cars move in slow motion against each other, watching as people’s bodies soon fade into Limbo and become solid, their souls waking up with mangled bodies with cuts and bruises and bleeding limbs, confusion etched into their features. Hajime follows those types of people for a moment, letting them recollect their memories and say their goodbyes, or get rid of their final regrets. 

He should be somewhere else, but there’s something that’s pulling him towards this obscure place in his mind. If it’s a moment from his past life, he can’t help but resist the urge to go, but he feels as if this were to be something different. 

He’s not sure if he wants this memory, because this is just getting in his way, and he has a job to do. He closes his eyes, giving in to the feeling of want and let his legs take him to where they ached to go, his mind filled with static. 

When he opens his eyes in what feels like forever and some, he’s facing a ramen building with working pots and food boiling. There’s a push of air against him, and he knows that this store is still open. He reaches out to enter the building, and he knows that this place wouldn’t be like the one in his memories. This looks too recent, nothing from seventy years ago- 

He can see it now. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s people beside him now, people that shouldn’t be there. But this is a memory, he knows it now. 

He’s sitting at one of the tables and staring up at a woman, who orders for the both of them. There’s the smell of ramen wading into his nose and the rowdy sounds of the men behind him, drinking so early in the morning. His stomach is growling, so loud that he’s afraid that his mom is going to hear him and tease him about it. 

Going to a ramen shop was definitely something that didn’t happen often. He remembers take out from the convenience store and money on the counter, remembering the way his mother would say goodbye in early mornings and hello in the late evenings. Internally, Hajime fears for what’s going to happen next.  

Soon enough, there are two bowls placed in front of them. Being too short to really see higher than the table in front of him, Hajime leans forward to grab his chopsticks by balancing at the edge of his chair, nearly slipping off his chair in hopes of getting the noodles into his mouth, without his mom’s help. His chin hits the table, and the chair wobbles for a moment, before his mom grabs him by his collar and helps keep him steady. 

Her laugh is worrying in panicky. But with a familiar lilt to her voice that brings his racing heart to a calm. “Are you okay?” She asks, and Hajime nods with burning cheeks.  “Do you need help?” He shakes his head. 

“I’m okay.” He mutters, pushing himself off the table, off the chair, pushing it nearer so he can sit closer to the bowl. When he gets back up again, he sees a plate of agedashi tofu right beside his ramen bowl.

The sigh takes him by surprise, and Hajime can’t help but let out a little gasp of excitement and happiness. “Thanks, mom!” He exclaims, before digging into the small dish. Playfully, his mom pushes him to the side with a smile and takes her own chopsticks to eat from the tofu plate. It takes less than 10 minutes to finish the plate, adding Hajime’s grumbles of wanting to have the entire thing. 

Almost instantly, Hajime can feel greed settle in his stomach and his soul tries to turn his head away from the change of scenery. It doesn’t work, and he watches the familiar scene of the happy atmosphere dripping away. He hates this, he knew it was going to happen. 

He closes his eyes, and bears with the familiar words of repent. He stands it, but he doesn’t want to see his mother look at him with disgust and regret when he hears her words call out to him, “You’re a disgusting child.” He can’t find the words to say no, he’s  _ not.  _ But he knows that his child self should’ve been more careful, his child self should’ve seen those weary lines around her eyes-- the blisters and cuts on her hands from vigorous work.  

It’s not real. He knows. But he also knows that it’s going to get worst than this. If this can equal a bit a greed, the punishments will become worse afterwards, when he’s sixteen.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he opens his eyes again, his feet are aching as if he had walked around Japan twice, and the first thing he sees is the front of the local general hospital. His head is dizzy, but he still wills himself to walk because he has a job to do. He can’t let anything stop him from doing his job. Not even some stupid headache.

He steps into the hospital and listens to his sluggish footsteps echo down the corridors, peeking into rooms, ignores the translucent people who are sitting in bed, reading a book that they aren’t going to process, humming music that probably is playing in their time, back on Earth. 

He looks through windows of rooms with the doors wide open, he listens for bare feet padding through the hospital hallways and the sound of tears dripping on clean floors. 

He still feels a little unsure about what happens in Limbo, what can affect the real world and what can’t. Moving objects and doors didn’t really affect the real world, and if it did, then he’d be getting a lot of complaints after his first few years from Mediums. Maybe it depends on power of the soul, the power of determination. He knows that small tears can partake in create puddles, and moving objects in Limbo can result in a very scared old lady being escorted into her hospital room, thinking she was going to rest for the day, but seeing a scalpel waving in the air instead.

(Well like, there’s another bonus for him.)

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

He finds someone waiting when he turns the corner, settled down on the table that was outside the room in front of it, normal hospital clothes draping down their body loosely. Their head turned the moment Hajime walked into their line of sight, and a smile filled in their melancholic face. Brown eyes with specks of universes stare at him in wonder and excitement, “Are you here to pick me up?” His voice was like his mother’s, light and generally happy. Hajime wonders if this guy is one of those freaks that is happy to die, or happy to be in Limbo. 

“Yeah.” Hajime replies warily. “You’re dead.” He steps closer to him.

The soul doesn’t phase, “Yeah, I know!” 

“You’re… happy?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” With a smile still on their face, they shrugged. “I hate humans.” Yep, definitely those freaks.

“Weren’t you one?” Hajime inquires, and the soul laughs joyously, clapping their hands. 

“What, you think I’m not one?” Yes. “Well, you were a human too right?”

“That’s not answering my question.” He replies, trying to not snap at them. This soul got on his nerves for some reason. Maybe it was the way he sat, relaxed as if he knew this were coming, so happy as if his death didn’t make him feel any sense of regret at all. 

“You hated the human world too, right?”The soul reached forward, gripping the end of Hajime’s cloak and pulls, revealing his arms, his legs, the small horns on the top of his head, his  _ face.  _ Hajime winces and recoils for a moment as the soul’s piercing eyes stared into his, then reaches his arm out to grab his cloak back. “This is what you got for being a human, you got scars and marks on your entire body for something you weren’t even comprehending, you were marked like this, and you’re forced to repent for these things, forced into a job and spend  _ years  _ working on getting a least something off, but you don’t.” They leaned in close to him. 

“Don’t you want to hate yourself for being born a human? Don’t you want to hate the world,  _ both of them,  _ for making this sick deal, creating these stupid rules? Don’t you just feel so  _ angry? _ ”

“How do you know this?” Finally grabbing his cloak back, he threw it back on hastily, simultaneously backing away from the soul. “You were a human too, you were  _ just  _ a human, so how do you  _ know _ ?”

“I never told you I was a human,” The soul hums, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You assumed everyone who comes in Limbo is a human soul, didn’t you?” 

“What are you-- wait.” Hajime’s eyes widened and the soul stuck his hand out, as if he were to shoot a gun. 

“Bingo!” The soul-- the  _ angel  _ cheered. “I’m an angel!”

“Why are you here?” Hajime asks, stopping when he feels it’s right, and watching as the angel puts a finger to his head, pretending to think about it. 

“To tease you of course!” Their happy smile dropped, and the angel looks at Hajime as if he was stupid, tilting their head and looking down at him, putting their weight onto their left leg. “I hate you guys.” The angel says with so much venom, Hajime wonders if that in itself was a sin to say. 

Hajime doesn’t bother asking why, because he knows that this… thing is an angel, and angels don’t ever want to say the truth to the people of  _ his kind.  _

“I’m leaving.” Hajime announces, but his feet stop and he wills them to, but his limbs won’t move the way he wanted them to. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” The angel titters, “You’re as stubborn as a rock, you know? Day in and day out, bring souls in, go back out alone.” The angel strides towards him, and Hajime doesn’t like the fact that he has to tilt his head the slightest bit higher to look the angel in the eyes. “You’re an interesting soul, though.” They let out a low whistle, “You are so determined to do your job, bringing in more than enough souls. You must’ve been those really annoying humans when you were  _ actually  _ a human.” 

“Let me go,” Hajime grinds out, trying to fight against this  _ mind control.  _ “Let me  _ fucking go. _ ” 

“How vulgar, Shinigami-chan. I’m just trying to make friends, but you’re not letting me.” The angel pouted, “Why are you so against us being friends?” 

Hajime wonders if all angels are dumbasses, or if it’s just that single one. “Friends?” Hajime scoffs back, “You told me that you hated me, less than a minute ago.” 

“I didn’t know you can tell minutes, I thought only by years.” 

“You guys think you’re so entitled to fuck with us,”Hajime snaps, and Tooru blinks back in surprise, breaking his focus and causing Hajime to propel forward. “You guys.. You guys think that just because you are ‘ _ pure’  _ means that you are perfect, you think that everything you do is for the right thing.” 

Hajime scowls at the angel. “I hate you too.” He whispers, before dusting his cloak off and heading in the opposite direction. “Go fuck yourself,” He snaps. The door to the underworld is in front of him, and he thinks that it’s okay to give someone else the shift he bargained to get. 

Maybe he’ll try to get the taste of that agedashi tofu again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he tells Chikara and Takahiro, they buy a cake that doesn’t really taste like anything but pure sugar. “Congratulations on your first encounter with an angel.” Takahiro cheers monotonously. “Be prepared to meet more of them.” 

“Are they always that shitty?” Hajime asks bitterly, stabbing his poor cake with his fork.

“Depending on who you met, yes.” Takahiro shrugs, staring at Hajime’s mutilated cake with pity “All the shitty, self-righteous angels go to Limbo.”

“Maybe the good ones stay in Paradise.” Chikara supplies an answer, but Hajime rolls his eyes and grins. 

“Of course, the people who might not treat us like shit are already doing a good job of it.” He sighs, and flops onto his bed, feeling fatigued. “I thought I would be able to survive a little longer without meeting them.”

“Sorry bud,” Takahiro pats Hajime consolingly. “Hopefully it’s just going to be that one angel.” 

Hajime thought back to the angel, brown eyes that held secrets and eternal knowledge, brown hair poofed up as if they were clouds themselves, and a smile that would get anyone to do anything he wanted if he were to ask-- 

“I don’t.” Hajime groans. “If anything, I’d rather it be another one.” 

Takahiro snickers. “Be careful what you wish for.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hajime really hated his odds at the moment. 

When he comes back to Limbo with his next shift fifteen years later, it’s almost as if Tooru was waiting for him when he comes out the door. This time, though, Tooru is draped with white cloth that hangs off his waist, a gold band holding it in place, a pair of magnificent white wings spread from his back.  _ Do it for the agedashi tofu,  _ He tells himself. 

“Ah, Shinigami-san! You’re back!” The angel sings, “It feels like forever since I saw you, what was it, 10 years?” 

“Go away.” Hajime sighs out, taking deep breaths to resist from punching the angel purely because of their smile. 

“I just want to play with you!” 

“Go play with other angels,” Hajime replies, refusing to let the angel get under his skin.

“But that’s boring. I want someone different.” 

Hajime tries walking faster, maybe borderline running depending on who sees, as Oikawa ran with him, wings flapping slightly to keep him light on his feet. “Shinigami-chan~ you’re so stubborn. Just like a rock.” The angel snaps his finger, jaw dropping at his revelation. “You’re Japanese, right? I’ll call you Iwa-chan! Shinigami-chan is too  _ long _ , but Iwa-chan is short, and cute! Aaah, you even look like a rock!” 

“What if I wasn’t Japanese?” Many foreigners came to Japan only to die. More often than not he sees a lot of blonde-haired people and grey-eyed children.

“Too bad. I was Japanese, so I’m giving you that name.” 

Hajime pauses in his steps, “I thought angels didn’t really have a specific birthplace?” 

“Hm, How observant!” The angel sticks his tongue out, giving Hajime the peace sign. “Well, my name is Japanese, so I was just assuming it.” 

“What’s your name?” Hajime asks, and grimaces at his obvious curiosity. 

“Ohoho, are you curious about me?” The angel wiggles his eyebrows. “If I tell you, will you tell me yours?” 

“Sure.” 

The angel’s lips lift up, “Tooru.” He says, almost breathlessly. “Now tell me yours!”

Hajime hates the fact that he wants to say Tooru’s name over and over again, wanting to hear the way it rolls off his tongue and out his mouth. “Hajime.” 

“Oooh,  _ Hajime. _ ” Tooru giggles. 

“Stop that, right there.” Hajime’s glad that he didn’t have blood flowing through his veins, because he was sure that if he did, he would feel the heat rising up his neck and tinting it pink.

“Your name is Hajime.” Tooru giggles again, “The characters for that, is it like  _ Ichi?”  _

Hajime gave a sour look to Tooru, and pushed the angel’s bare shoulder for a moment to push him out of his face.  

But no, because Hajime’s life isn’t that simple  _ apparently.  _

Upon the collision, the point of impact, there was a feeling as if Hajime had touched a flame, then proceeded to throw himself into the fire. His hand  _ burned,  _ like lightning had struck upon his skin and spread out like a wildfire. 

Tooru let out a yelp, wings diving to protect his body as his feet stumbled in surprise. “What did you do?” He asks, voice too frail for it to belong to the same angel that was teasing him moments earlier. “Why did you do that?” Hajime dips his head down, looking at his hand-- pale, ugly skin burnt light brown, a colour he hasn’t gotten to see this vividly in a while, smoking slightly from  _ whatever the fuck that was.  _

Slowly, he looks up to Tooru, who is staring back at him in confusion. “Why did you do that?” Tooru repeats, and Hajime turns his head to Tooru’s shoulder, where his perfect, porcelain skin cracked and was in the process of turning grey, wings slowly turning from a pure white to a small gradient of a muddy eggshell colour at the base of his wings. 

“What-” 

“We aren’t allowed to touch, you know.” Tooru says, as if Hajime had known this before. “Hajime, what the-?” Tooru winces, rolling onto his back and holding his cracking skin. 

Blinking, Hajime realizes the fact that his mind was being pulled by the corners, realizing that he shouldn’t feel bad for an  _ angel,  _ something that tormented his kind for  _ years.  _

When he looks at Tooru again, the angel is smiling. “Ah! So you saw through it?” Hajime couldn’t believe it. Maybe being nice to an angel was too much, maybe they  _ didn’t  _ deserve to be shown such things like that. 

He’s livid.

“Go fuck yourself.” Hajime hisses, “You planned that didn’t you? You planned that I would touch you, despite knowing that I didn’t know. You planned that I was going to get angry and upset,” 

“I mean, I actually didn’t know you didn’t know,-” 

“You planned this.” Hajime grinds out, “You better get out of my face,” He gets closer to Tooru, and threatens to step on his wings, which were still wrapped around his body. “Or else I will break your wings, and let you rot here.” 

Tooru’s smile was deadly. “Tell Takahiro I said hi.” Glaring down, he turns on his heel and listens to Tooru’s call. “Bye, Hajime!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Takahiro coughs out, “Anyways, you got Tooru?  _ Man,  _ you fucked up.”

“Are there levels of angels I should avoid?” Hajime mused, taking a swig of his apple juice. Soon, he’ll have enough for that agedashi tofu. 

“Yes,” Takahiro says, albeit a little more serious than Hajime would like. “Tooru isn’t that bad, but there’s some stuff about him that contributes to the reason why he’s like that.” 

“How do you know this?” Hajime asks, and Takahiro pats Hajime on the back. 

“I read, my dearest.” He swoons back, “Goodness me, have you not read Beauty and the Beast? It’s a timeless classic, despite it being over hundreds of years old.”

“Just like us.” Hajime jokes. 

“Yeah. But seriously?” Takahiro sighs, reaching over to his table and grabbing his most recent  work, the study of Memes dating back to the early 21st century. “You should study up on it. I’m surprised you haven’t really done much research about angels.” 

Hajime shrugs, “I haven’t had the time. I have another shift soon.” 

“It’s in 10 years.” Takahiro points out. “We’re not in any rush, dude. But just spend a few just chilling in the library, You’re already a hundred years old, it’s not like your life will be slipping from your fingers if you spend a few moments researching.”

Hajime nods, looking up at the swirl of clouds. “Yeah,” Slowly, he can see the silhouette of Tooru’s body, his wings, form along the dark clouds, and gently reached up to touch his horns, remembering their differences. 

He ignores Takehiro’s cheers of,  _ “AND HE DOES IT AGAIN! The daily horn touch that  almost didn’t happen! Hajime doesn’t disappoint folks!”  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He meets Koushi in the library, staring at the piles upon piles of books stacked in bookshelves and being rearranged the moment he walks in. “Hajime!” Koushi exclaims, “Wow, I haven’t seen you here since you were just 30 years old.” The librarian grins, patting his cheek. “You haven’t changed a bit. What are you here for?” 

Koushi was very… excitable, always craving new information and is one of the only fallen angels that work like this. “I wanted to read a little bit about angels.” Hajime tells him. Koushi takes in an excited gasp, sharp claws meeting and sunken eyes widening in excitement.

“Ooh!” Koushi exclaims, “Yes, some more recent additions have been added the past couple months since our research team has just came back from their report. I think they included some of the descriptions of the angels too! Daichi hasn’t sorted them out yet, so they’re just in the new arrivals bin!”

“Thanks, Koushi.”

“Oh goodness, it’s no problem.” He smiles at Hajime he knows a secret, even though his smile doesn’t really show much in his lips. “What’s with the sudden interest? The last time you were here you were just looking at different types of canines. Which has been updated, if you want to see.”

Hajime glances at the stack of books, the piles already sorted, and grins back at Koushi. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, now go do your research! I read through them already, so if you need any help then I’m here.”

Hajime nods distractedly, heading over to the books. He ignores Koushi’s wistful sigh,  _ ‘they grow up so fast.’  _ When he gets to the piles, he picks up a book, and begins to read. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you notice the undertale reference i put there  
> (this chapter is alternatively titled "Hajime just has deteriorating luck from here onwards")
> 
> also: My friend Bean did some calculations about how many times Hajime had touched his horns by the time he was 70, and the number was 25 550.  
> Good job Hajime. Maybe this will be the only constant in your life.


	5. knowledge is power, but it is also restriction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime learns things that aren't necessary, and forgets the things that are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited, mentions of violence and mutilation starts on 'The story is hard to translate through" and ends at "The man falls to Hell." 
> 
> thank you for reading!

Hajime decides that he should maybe take a break. 

He hasn’t seen the dull white of sunlight in what feels like  _ centuries,  _ and it feels like Daichi is literally setting up his own section called,  _ ‘Hajime’s Study Corner’ _ .  Takahiro probably regrets on influencing Hajime to work on reading on about this, because they both know that once he starts, he won’t stop. He forgot the detail of the pattern on Takahiro’s bed, which he had memorized out of pure boredom, instead seeing the images of wings rising, the pattern of and the anatomy of an angel. 

He forgot the sound of Chikara’s fake laugh when Kenji tries to get near him, pushing himself onto Chikara’s body and telling him all the new things he experienced, watching how Chikara’s smile turns from fake into something real. Instead, he can recall the first time an angel had went to limbo and terrorized he first demon. (Ironically, it was Lucifer with his brother.)

He thinks about his family from his memories, people who he would spend nights thinking and wondering about, but he can’t imagine his mother’s stress-lined face, he can’t see her face when she smiles or laughs. Instead, he sees Tooru’s face, scrunched up in a nasty smile with eyes like jewels shining in the sun. Perfect skin as if he were just born the day before, unharmed, not tattered and ripped like his own skin. 

God, he hates him, but he can’t but see the physical attributes that differ between them. He can’t help but acknowledge the fact that Tooru is beautiful. He can’t help but think that Tooru is a beauty that Hajime will never be able to achieve. He can think of Tooru’s cocky smile, the teasing way his tongue pokes out. He’s not giving up on bothering him, and Hajime is fed up with it.

Hajime shakes his head, putting the book about Angels and Potential Abilities down and leaning onto the library floor. 

The area around him is quiet, with researches writing textbooks, their field reports. He thinks about learning more, maybe asking Takahiro about it, because Hajime knows that Takahiro holds more knowledge about the things he researches about, never putting everything he knows in his books. 

“Why do you do that?” Hajime had asked him, when Takahiro began working on his third book about Soul Matter and theories on the Underworld. “Why do you spend months working on a project, years,  _ decades _ even, but when you begin to write you don’t include everything you know?”

“Sometimes I like holding things to myself,” Takahiro says. “Humans had a thirst for knowledge, souls that were humans still have such a thirst for it. They’re always craving to know more, always wanting, claiming they need but it’s not like they won’t live on without it. Don’t you have that feeling too, Hajime?

“I like holding bits of things that interest me close to my chest. If I don’t do that, it feels like the research I do is purely for the people around me, not my own interest, or anything like that. I don’t want to think that I’m only doing a job for the context of it only being a job. I like to know new things, love knowing things that I didn’t know before. I wouldn’t want to learn something I’m not interested in, because that’s a waste of my time.” Takahiro snorts, “I gotta say, it can be a pain in the ass if you want to learn something like this, because it just means that you gotta know the things that come before it.” 

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

“You can try finding something to curse the angel? Or to curse you so the angel won’t get near you. Like, I don’t know, some witch?”

“You really think that there are witches in this day and age?” Hajime scoffs. “They died like, thirteen centuries ago. Get with the times, Chikara. They died off because their magic blood surprisingly didn’t have a chance.” He knows Hitoka, a witch that still was repenting. Chikara knows her too, but it wasn’t like their powers could work here-- no, it was voided. “Anyways, I figured out that if I touch an angel, it’s forbidden and it will burn them.”

“Usually forbidden things have a cost,” Tetsurou adds, lying back into his chair, pausing in his work about sports in the human world. “What did it say about it affecting you?”

Hajime grimaces, hating that Tetsurou was so observant. “A longer sentence.” Hajime murmurs, and Chikara almost stabbed Hajime with the pair of scissors he was holding in his hands. 

“No way.” Chikara says, “You are not allowed to do that.” He holds the pair of scissors in front of Hajime threateningly, and the latter puts his hands up in fear.

“It’s nothing bad!” Hajime tries to defend, “Not as bad as possibly losing you wings if you touch a demon.” 

“You aren’t going to add more to your time for some shitty angel who doesn’t deserve the fact that you need to sacrifice time for. Time that could’ve been used to put you in the lists for reincarnation. Who knows how much time you gained from that measly little touch!” Chikara scrunches his nose, eyes narrowing, “I swear to god Hajime, if you ever try doing that on purpose, I will honestly punch you, then punch the angel so I can have that additional time.” 

“Same here,” Tetsurou adds, “Wait- what were you guys talking about?” He turns in his chair and stretches his body. Hajime can’t help but relate Tetsurou to a cat whenever he does that.

“If I end up sacrificing myself for cheap shots, Chikara says he’s going to do the same thing after punching me.”

“Ah,” Tetsurou grimaces, “well, I mean, count me in to an extent. I’m very close to getting out, and I don’t mind if I stay a few more years.” He pauses, eyes wavering out of the window that doesn’t really have any reason to be there, “I wouldn’t mind.” He repeats. 

Chikara and Hajime smiles at each other from the corner of their eyes, forgetting about the current situation of Hajime wanting to sacrifice his own time to hurt the angel. “Are you thinking of that guy again, Tetsu?” 

Tetsurou looks away from the window, frowning slightly. “It’s none of your business,” He rolls his eyes and gets back to his work, “Now get out assholes, I have this essay due tomorrow and I only started because Hajime-chan decided to angst about this shitty angel that doesn’t deserve shit.” 

Chikara gives Hajime a look, as if saying ‘ _ see _ ’ and Hajime reaches out to push his friends head out of his space. “I don’t even get why you did so much research. No one cares about angels unless their anatomy and lifespan ends up having to be related to you in some way. But you ain’t a researcher, nor an angel, so it shouldn’t matter.”

“Ah,” Hajime shrugs, “Nice to know your enemies before you deal with them, right?” 

“Name the anatomy of an angel.” 

“How about you suck my dick instead?” 

“Sorry,” Chikara grins, “I have that planned with Kenji.” Hajime looks at Chikara in confusion, “See, if you would have spared some of your time with us, you would have been here to see that wonderful blooming of Kenji and I’s relationship.” 

“You probably agreed after the twenty-fourth time he asked.” Hajime shoots back. 

“Twenty-fifth.” Tetsurou corrects him, “Close, though.”

Hajime smirks at Chikara, who gives him a withering glare.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

“Hajime, are you okay?” Koushi asks him, when he's back within a wall of books that surround him like the blockade that happened (five hundred years after angels have been created, two million years after humans had been created,) to prevent human souls (even then, they called them demons) from collecting souls, because angels had thought that they tainted the people and forced them down to Hell, after an increase of human souls cluttering Limbo, and the angels being unable to bring them to Paradise, the angels finally released the blockade and let the demons do their jobs.

“Yeah,” Hajime mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m okay, maybe just a bit exhausted from learning.” 

“What’s got you interested in this?” Koushi settles himself down in front of the man, pushing a few books out of the way to lean on them with his elbow.  “I heard that you had experienced your first angel attack, so that’s a pretty big event. Then experienced your second attack, with the same angel, which is not as exciting.” 

“It’s not supposed to be that celebrated, is it?” Hajime asks, giving a bitter smile to Koushi, who laughs. 

“It shouldn’t be, but it happens so often that we might as well make it normalized.” 

“Why do we have to take it?” Hajime asks, settling his book down and looking Koushi in his sunken, tired eyes. “I know this happens, but why do we have to suck it up and just handle their tormenting like this?” He remembers a time where his people would try to retaliate, but it backfired and it hurt them more than it hurt the angels. Of course it did, they had His favour.

Koushi sighs, reaching out and rubbing his hands down Hajime’s rough, scaly skin. “I was an angel once too,” He says. 

“I know that,” Hajime states, “Everyone knows that.” 

“I didn’t really get why they did it, angels, I mean.” Koushi leans his head onto a pile of books beside him, saying the words as if it were just a simple reminder of his day, “I never got why they wanted to take the time out of their perfect lives to just hurt another being. We were angels, we weren’t supposed to think like that.” 

Hajime leans in closer to listen to Koushi’s story, something he thinks that Takahiro probably heard before, maybe others, but this was his first time. 

“They tried to convince me to do it, because they thought it was right. They thought that you guys deserved to be tormented, because you were sinners and Angels were the embodiment of purity and innocence. They made sermons against you, saying how God should just give up on the humans and leave them.” Koushi looks at the sky bitterly, “He had listened, because they were his new creations and he liked them. By then, he had only listened to very few prayers, he had stopped granting them. It was only a matter of time before he stopped paying attention to them completely.” Koushi touches his own face, the burned cheeks that showed his sharp teeth. 

“My hair used to be the colour black, when I was first created.” Koushi whispers, “Black was a bad omen, it meant evil, sin. There was an angel with red hair who didn’t face as much criticism as I did. When God had stopped caring about the humans and the souls entirely, it went downhill. Everyone wanted to hurt the poor people, worked to death. I had friends with me who didn’t want to do it either, but eventually they had seen their friends fall from grace and they just couldn’t bear to see that happen to them.” 

“You didn’t do anything about it?” 

“I couldn’t,” Koushi pauses to think about it, “Well, I stopped some from doing it, but by myself I couldn’t completely solve it all. I didn’t have the power or abilities or social status. I was at the lowest section of the social hierarchy. I wasn’t even allowed to say my own sermons.Very little talked to me, and really listened, Hajime.” 

“So what did you do?” Hajime asks, looking at Koushi’s tired face. He knows for sure that this story has been told many times before this.

“Am I boring you?” Koushi smiles, and Hajime responds with a fervent shake of his head. “Whenever I tell this story, it’s as if everyone gets bored of it. There’s always people who are into it though, like you.” Hajime looks away, upset that this could be considered boring to some. He feels like a child reading his first book, despite the other children reading it before him and claiming they didn’t like it.

“It’s interesting,” Hajime says honestly, “I can maybe imagine how it would seem boring, but I want to know more about this.” 

Koushi laughs, patting Hajime’s shoulder. “I’m too tired to continue. Aah, aren’t you tired?” 

“I thought we don’t really need sleep.” 

“Maybe it’s old age,” Koushi hums, “I don’t know, maybe it’s because this story feels so overdone, sometimes I feel like I should add some things to it to make it more interesting.” 

“I never talked to a fallen angel like this, before.” Hajime admits, “I’m a little scared of the Elders.” 

“Hun, almost everyone is.” Koushi swings his hand to hit Hajime on the shoulder, “But don’t be, they aren’t here to wreck havoc. If they were, we wouldn’t be able to live in peace like this. And by peace, I mean that we currently aren’t at war. Maybe it’s because those are my brothers and sisters, but it’s pretty easy to talk to them.” 

“Were they there when you were?” 

“I’m not  _ that  _ old!” Koushi scowls, folding his arms and stuck out his forked tongue. “I was born nearly a millennia after them.” Koushi’s playful demeanor diminishes once again, looking at Hajime in full seriousness. “Be careful, Hajime. Just because I told you that some angels didn’t want to, don’t think that they all changed. If anything, I would think those have become worse. They think of us as something, that if they are bad, they will become. We’re seen as punishment, and they think it’s okay to hurt the bad people. Remember, Hajime, even the purest white can have a dark background.” 

Hajime nods, not believing the fallen angel’s last words. “Okay. Thanks, Koushi.” 

The fallen angel looks at him with a bright smile, “It’s nothing. Now go take a break! I think Takahiro has gone into a permanent loss in what to do because you’ve been gone for so long. Get a shift, ask someone if they could change your appearance so the angel won’t notice you.” 

“There’s people like that?” 

“Jesus, Hajime.” Koushi exclaims, “We literally have angels and demons and God and an afterlife, don’t you think there’d be some magical people here?” 

“No.” 

“You have no imagination.” Koushi says, in all seriousness. He reaches out into a blank space, and a book comes into his hand. He smiles when Hajime stares at the scene, “I used to be able to do more than that, but I think as I fell from grace, my powers also lessened. Anyways, read this book. It’s an old fairy tale from the human world.” 

“A fairy tale?” 

“Hajime you better get the hell,” Daichi snickers behind them, “out of my library before I beat you up for not knowing what a fairy tale is.” 

“Thanks again, Koushi.” 

“Get. Out. And read. The. Book.” 

“Okay, okay.” Hajime stood, fairy tale book in hand, and excited his little barricade. “I’ll make sure to read it.”  

Daichi groans when Hajime leaves the gigantic library, realizing the pile of books he had left. Hajime snickers.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Hajime knows he doesn’t like these kinds of books. He would want happy endings, content endings. He wants great protagonists and a thrilling action scene and a mind blowing climax. He doesn’t normally read, he has to be honest, he’d rather take things head on and see how it goes from here.  The fairy tale doesn’t any of the things Hajime likes, except for maybe the scary yet interesting graphics drawn. 

The story is hard to translate thoroughly, he wasn’t able to study German. But he plows through them slowly, it’s mostly about a human that makes a deal with God, tricking the ethereal being to let the human become an angel if he does a good deed. God couldn’t break a promise, but he tells his sons that the human had forced him to do something. The angels descend upon the human, happy for his free ticket, and smite him.  

Followed by a lot of graphic descriptions of limbs being cut off, the angel’s wouldn’t let the man die though, so they let him heal back with their powers. They tried to get him to sin, to get angry at them and to hurt them. It never happened, and the man dies and goes to heaven, But despite his efforts of staying there, in the greatest place he could ever imagine, God uses a single sin he had committed in his past life to kick him down. 

The man falls to Hell, and the story ends as the man curses God and talks about how unfair he is. It’s a long monologue about his pain and suffering, and how God would never let him as a human come up there, reflecting on his pain but how the Lord doesn’t have any sympathy for them, as a species. 

He really persevered, Hajime thinks, but too bad his efforts equalled to nothing. He closes the book slowly with fear that something will pop out at him. “Go big or go home, go figure.” He mutters to himself, and proceeds to throw the book across the room with no intention of ever picking it up ever again. 

Hajime doesn’t sleep after that, not for the next couple days. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Takahiro asks, dropping his body weight onto Hajime’s body, which was curled in a fetal position. 

“I’m suffering.” Hajime says, “Books are a mistake.” 

“You finally finished studying on shit that doesn’t matter?” Takahiro asks, using his body to cover up Hajime’s like a blanket, face in the crook of Hajime’s shoulder and head. 

“Says the one that is working on  _ memes. _ ” 

“Memes are a blessing, excuse you.” Takahiro scoffs, effectively getting spit on Hajime’s ear. “I already have twenty people asking me about my next study on it.” 

“Wow, twenty people.” Hajime replies dryly, “That’s like a normal day of soul collecting.” 

“Excuse you, Ichi, but when twenty people want to read your works, it’s amazing.” Takahiro sighs, “I don’t know if you know that feeling, though.” 

Hajime blinks. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Something surges through his head painfully, and all of a sudden he’s looking down at a paper with red marks and a ‘100%’ glaring at him, He shows his mother, who pushes him away because she was sleeping, then he shows his father, who takes it into his hands and smiles, patting Hajime’s head with a certain fondness. 

He’s saying something, but Hajime can’t make it out. 

“Hajime,” His father calls out, and he’s trying get closer to hear, but his body won’t let him. “Haji--...” 

  
  
  
  
  


“Ichi?” Takahiro’s voice brings him back to the ground, “You okay there, bud?”

Hajime’s vision comes back to focus, and from the corner of his eye, because he can’t turn his head more than a little, he sees Takahiro staring down at him in curiosity. “I’m good,” He says.

Takahiro’s worried look changes into a lazy smile, “D’you want to arm wrestle?” 

Hajime rolls his eyes, “Yeah, sure, because you are so strong.” He pauses for a moment, letting his body rise and fall along with his breathing, “Maybe not now. I kind of just want to rest.”

Takahiro stays on top of him for a minute longer, seemingly just melting on top of Hajime, “Are you going to be good?” 

“Are you my mom?” Hajime asks. “Hiro, don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” 

Takahiro nods slowly. “Okay.” But he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can move. I think my body fell asleep.” Takahiro’s arm circles their way under Hajime’s chest, squeezing their way under both their weight to link in the middle, contradicting his words. “I’m  _ very  _ sorry.” 

Hajime scoffs, “Thanks.” He says. 

Takahiro buries his head in Hajime’s shoulder and ignores him, steady breaths signalling that he wasn’t going to move anytime soon. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

“I promise,” Takahiro says, gripping Hajime’s shoulders when he pulls on a cloak and gets ready for his shift. “I swear to god, Ichi. If that angel comes again, call me by my name and I will come from the depths of the Underworld to kick their ass.” 

“Hiro-” 

“I promise,” Takahiro throws himself onto Hajime’s body, limbs attaching themselves onto him and wailing out. “Tooru will face my wrath. Hajime, please.” 

“Hiro. I’m not going to get you to fight Tooru.” Hajime tries to get out, but his best friend’s wails are louder. “Hiro,  _ please _ .” 

Takahiro ignores him, swinging his body and making Hajime hold his legs, “Ichi no one’s allowed to make you feel angry and upset at such things except for  _ me!”  _

“If you don’t let go of me right now, I’m reporting you.” Hajime slowly let Takahiro down, the latter pouting. 

“I’m just worried, Ichi.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Hajime rolls his eyes, patting Takahiro’s head awkwardly. “You don’t normally worry about me when I go out on shifts, and you’ve been acting weird since I told you about Tooru, what’s wrong?” 

“You should go, Ichi.” Takahiro says, guiding Hajime to the giant tree. “You’ll be late for your shift. I heard there’s going to be a bonus today, some bombing happening, like a war or something, in your ward. Heard it’s gonna be a blast” 

“Hiro-” Hajime tries to ignore the bad joke that Hiro made in an attempt to make the tension lighter.

“Bye!” His best friend reaches out to push him into the entrance, and waves when Hajime turns to yell at him. “Be safe!” 

“Hiro--” Hajime tries calling out, but the door closes and he’s stuck in the human world again for a week. “Goddamn it.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

Tooru is waiting for him, after he gathers a crowd of people with burned limbs and melted skin. They’re whispering amongst themselves, mothers holding their children in fear and men trying to not to cry to look strong for the young ones around them. Tooru is in front of Hajime, in the midst of fires and crashing cars, a symbol of life, innocence and purity in the middle of death and chaos. 

“If you want to talk,” Hajime snaps, glaring at Tooru who stares at him silently, “Do it at the end of the day. I’m helping everyone right now.” 

Tooru stays silent for a moment longer, and Hajime takes it as an acceptance. He walks by him and tries to not flinch when the angel reaches out towards him. “We’re almost there,” Hajime announces to the group, “Stay together, and don’t stray off.” He turns around to count the group, but they aren’t listening. 

They are staring at Tooru, in shock, awe, interest,  _ confusion.  _ “Nii-chan,” A little boy calls out, with a burned arm and a deformed face that prevents his words from getting out properly. 

Tooru looks at him with a small smile, but Hajime feels a sense of dread in his stomach. “Hello, there.” Tooru hums, bending down and taking the human boy’s arm. “How are you?”

“I’m scared,” The little boy admits. “I don’t know what to do.” Tooru ruffles his hair, and the mother reaches out to grab her son by the arm. “Nii-chan, what’s going to happen.” 

Tooru lifts his other arm to point at Hajime, “Don’t worry,” Tooru whispers, “This man will help you.” 

The little boy barely spares a look towards him, and shakes his head. “He’s scary, nii-chan.” He says, tears ready to spill from his eyes, “I’m scared of him.” 

“He’ll take care of you.” 

Tooru freezes when the group parts and a woman shoots out to grab the boy by the arm, “I’m sorry,” She apologizes, “I hope my son didn’t bother you.” 

Tooru nods, spaced out. “It’s... nothing.” He mutters. He shoots up, and the mother and son look at him in confusion, and the group whispers questions behind them. “I have to go.” He says, and he disappears in a bright flash of light. 

The group then turns to Hajime, and the demon looks into the distance and sees buildings burned black and the moon rising in the sky. “I’ll take you guys to your future home now,” He announces, “You will be okay.” He promises them. 

You’ll be okay, he promises himself. 

Another girl, with singed hair and a burned leg, grabs Hajime by the arm and looks up in the eyes. She doesn’t care about his looks when she sees him, despite seeing the angel that Tooru is just moments before. “Who was he?” She asks him. 

“He’s no one important.” Hajime grits out, and takes a deep breath. “You don’t need to think about him. Don’t worry,” 

“Is he a good person?” The little girl asks again, and Hajime glances to where Tooru disappeared, feeling a sense of discomfort at the thought of him. 

“I don’t know,” Hajime says, “I don’t think he is.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

The day ends with proud fathers hugging him as thanks and his cloak soaking wet by the end of it. They walk through the door in awe, Hajime doesn’t think much of it, but he’s thankful that they didn’t respond badly to his face. 

`A mother replies back to him, when he asks why they don’t look bothered by him, and they reply with a soft smile and a gesture to their face. “Honey, our bodies are burn, our limbs deformed, there isn’t much to judge between the two of us.” 

Hajime hugs her tightly, and she bids him goodbye, and a ‘see you,’ when the door finally closes, Hajime takes a step back and rests on the curb until the moon in the sky hangs low and the sun steadily rises in its stead. 

Tooru doesn’t arrive, but Hajime doesn’t expect him to. Why should an angel listen to him, anyways?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hajime, you sure are missing some things


	6. for my people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic Descriptions of Character Death: starts at 'One day, when Hajime's on a free day' and ends at 'Hajime doesn't want to'

The week continues on like that, finding and helping survivors from the fires. It takes three days to stop completely. At night, Hajime watches debris fall from buildings, being picked up by large cars and machines. On his last day, he meets a woman under piles of rubble and burnt metal, body nearly solid. He helps her out.

She looks at him as he guides her out of the pile. Her arms are limp at her side, and she’s barely able to stand on her own two legs. “Thanks,” she whispers, voice hoarse and face wet. “You saved my life.”

Hajime smiles. “It’s nothing.” It occurs to him that she was looking at him from under the hood. She wasn’t scared. “Are you okay? It looks like you had a lot on your shoulders.”

The girl looks at him for a moment, before her scarred face lights up into a smile and she begins to laugh, a symphony of notes that twinkle above his head. “That was cheesy, and bad,” she says, and she looks around at the grey world around them.

“Am I in a coma?” she asks. Hajime gives her a slow nod, and helps her settle herself on the ground. “Not the first time.” She hums.

She turns to him with questioning, brown eyes that hold unbridled curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. She reminds him of Takahiro. “Have I seen you before?” She purses her lips. “When I was younger, I ended up getting hit by a car and broke my ribs and legs. The doctors were surprised I woke up only three weeks later.” She bends her head to look up at the smoke filled sky. “You were with another, small guy, if it was you.”

Hajime shakes his head. “Maybe you had seen Yuutarou. He’s usually with the team that deals with people in comatose. His partner is Akira too. I wasn’t here a couple years ago.”

He wonders to himself, had he been reading for a lifetime’s worth? He swears that it was only for a couple of years. He looks around at the burned buildings around him, sees old ones have disappeared and that new ones had been replaced, shining metal buildings that replaced old wood ones.  

“Ah.” She tosses another curious look towards Hajime. “Yeah, you do remind me of a hedgehog. He looked more like a turnip.” Hajime can’t place the resemblance, but he laughs anyways. “Do you collect souls?”

Hajime nods, and he keeps himself quiet for a moment.

“Are you here to eat my soul?” the girl asks. “The smaller guy- Akira?- told me that. I think it was to get just me to wake up. But then my body wasn’t opaque like this. I was more translucent.”

She looks at him with sad eyes- but not scared. “I don’t want to die yet.” Her body flickers again like a light, switching between transparent to translucent. She looks at the ground below her through her hands. “I have so many things to do.”

“You can always will yourself to live,” he tells her, looking through her hands as well. “It’s not like you will completely go away without a chance. You have a choice to live on.”

“I promised my mom,” she whispers, “that I would be more careful. After the car accident, she almost lost me. She told my dad and I that God let me live again. That we should thank God for the lives we live today.” She sniffles. “I think my dad wanted to just give my mom a break, so he prayed to God with her when we had dinner, thanked him every night. I didn’t want to though, because I remember that guy and his friend coming here and telling me to live. They told me to cherish my life because I was given a second chance. My family was never religious before that. But I know it wasn’t God that helped me live.”

He nods. “I can see how that can affect your family,” she continues on. He adds silently, _God doesn’t really care for humans._

“I don’t want to live in that world, anymore,” she mutters. “I can’t handle it. I’m almost twenty-five, and because of an accident when I was eighteen, it’s harder to do anything now because I get so babied by my family-- which isn’t bad, don’t get me wrong, but it ends up stopping me from doing what I wanted to do.” She sighs. “I used to be able to run three kilometers in ten minutes, but now I could barely be able to jog two kilometers in twenty. It took a couple years to get back to the shape I am in now, and then school came into the picture again. It felt weird, like I forget everything I learned in high school.”

Hajime sighs, knowing the feeling. “I mean, you being here definitely means something,” he says. “This doesn’t look like an apartment building, or even a restaurant.” He gestures to the burnt, collapsed building in front of them. “Well it doesn’t really look like anything right now.”

“I was helping office workers,” she explains. “The people were talking about how their coworkers were still in the building, as I walked by and I didn’t know what to do-- the firemen went to help the kindergarten and hospital patients first. I just wanted to try doing something- I heard my mom’s voice in my head to not do anything reckless, but I still ran in there without a second thought. I was helping my third person before the building fell. Did you see her?”

“That’s very commendable,” Hajime says. “I think you did the right thing. But I’m sorry, I think I had. I went by this building many times and picked up many people. I’m sure that the person had either gotten here safely and I guided them down to where I reside, or they are in your world, safe and sound. Either way, they will be in a place that will welcome them and care for them.”

“She was really cute.” The girl sighs. “I hope she lived so I can live, and go on a date with her.”

“You should focus on living before that.” Hajime grins at the girl, who gives a shaky smile back.

“I just want to stay here, though,” she mutters. “I mean, if I go back, there’s no doubt that I have to go through physical therapy again- and this time, my mom would ever let me go out unless it’s under her supervision.” She leans her head onto Hajime’s shoulder because she can’t do anything else. “I just want to stay in this life, in this moment of eternal stillness. I want to watch worlds and eras pass by because I’m so _fucking_ scared of going back and having to go through it again.”

Her voice cracks and Hajime reaches to pat her on the back. “I was going to go to grad school this year.” She looks at the rubble in front of them, watches machines slowly but surely grab pieces of concrete and fallen metal beams.

“Do you want to go back?” Hajime asks, and he feels her freeze up.

“I don’t, but I do.” She turns her head so her tears fall back onto his cloak. “I don’t know, because I want to live more, but it’s going to be hell to go back to where I had left off- who knows. If I decide to go back, who knows when I will wake up? It can be days, weeks, months. I don’t know- and I’m scared. I don’t want to be left behind again. I’ll miss so much again, and if I want to live, I have to miss more in order to heal to how I am now.”

Hajime nods, but he sees Yuutarou jogging up to them with Akira by his side, and he gives her a small nudge. “I don’t think you need a reason to go back, if you really do. By the way that your body is turning more and more transparent, I can say that you made your choice already.”

“What if it’s the wrong choice?” she asks. Hajime can barely feel her presence. “What if I was meant to die right now?”

“If you want to work hard for it, then you know it won’t be the wrong choice. If you feel happy doing it, if you want it, you should do it. No matter the obstacles, you will reach your goal as long as you have your motivation,” Hajime says. “It’s going to be hard if you decide to go back.” He hears Yuutarou slow to a walk, and he hears Akira’s tired voice telling him to stop for a moment. “But I mean, everything is hard in the beginning and that just means that when you finally reach the goal, victory tastes so much sweeter.”

“I never quite pinned you for a sap, Hajime,” Akira chimes in, with a smirk on his face, pulling his hand on Hajime’s other shoulder and squeezing it. _We got it from here._ “This isn’t your area of work, you should find some people to collect before Takahiro gets your ass for not doing anything today.”

Hajime nods, and looks at the girl. “Look, it’s the same people as last time.” He sits her up and helps her look at them properly. “I have to leave now, but I didn’t get your name- I’m Hajime.”

“Yasu,” she says, a little hesitantly at first. “My name is Yasu.”

“Yasu-san, it was nice talking to you.” Hajime pats her head. “I hope I won’t have to see you for another forty to fifty years.”

Yasu smiles back, and Yuutarou thanks him again before replacing his spot, using his soothing voice to calm Yasu and trying to convince the already convinced to live again.

Sometimes, Hajime thinks when he watches Yasu’s soul slowly fade away, he doesn’t like his job.

He blinks back his thoughts, and heads into the subway,

  
  
  
  


“That was nice of you,” a voice comments snidely beside him.

Hajime looks out the corner of his eye, seeing Tooru skipping beside him as if he hadn’t been completely off his radars for the past week.

“What did you want to talk about?” Hajime looks around for a moment, making sure that there aren’t any souls around, and he leans against a pillar, frowning at Tooru. “I don’t appreciate the fact that you won’t leave me alone, I don’t like how you decided to talk to my souls as if you could relate to them.”

“You made it quite obvious that you don’t like me.” Tooru pouts. “Why don’t you like me? Aren’t I beautiful?”

“Just because you’re beautiful doesn’t mean you should be liked.” Hajime sighs, and he thinks about the fairytale that Koushi had given him. “Why do you want to talk to me, Tooru. Spill, because I honestly don’t want to deal with you more than I should.”

“I saw how you acted with that girl,” Tooru says, settling himself down on the dirty floor. “You acted as if you gave a damn about life on Earth. Like it was so very important that she had to live.” Tooru stares at him, calculating and questioning. “As if you’re a very good example at that.”

Hajime twitches up his gaze, his own eyes widening under his claim. He feels Tooru staring at him, like clothes didn’t matter, and his eyes are fixated on the scars on his arms- Hajime feels something churn in his stomach,

“How do you know about that?” Hajime demands.

“Know about what, Hajime?” Tooru’s eyes divert back to him, daring Hajime to say more that he hasn’t already insinuated. “Care to tell me?”

Hajime scowls. “Tooru, stop playing games.” He stands his ground, refusing to let this guy get into his head like before.

“There are people watching, Hajime,” Tooru whispers, lifting his leg up to wrap his arm around it. “You may think that no one cares, that no one will see.” He rests his head on his arm, covering his mouth so Hajime has to bend the slightest way forward to hear what he says next. “There’s always people who watch you, and they will hold all your actions against you.”

Tooru turns his head to the point that the crack of his neck echoes in the subway. “You guys are lucky, because there’s so many of you,” he mutters. “You get lost in memories, and soon it doesn’t even feel like long, but you’re gone before you know it and you forget. Your life before this, and this life before the next.” Tooru sighs. “No one will forget about me. No one will forget anything.”

Hajime looks at Tooru, confused at the subject. “What do you mean-” he tries to ask, but Tooru is already standing and stretching his arms, the gold band that used to hang low on his waist holding only a single cloth is now a large robe that covers his entire body, aside from his arms. Tooru stretches and Hajime glances at the slightest bit of milky smooth skin that’s under the robe.

“Hajime.” Tooru’s curious, concentrated look disappeared, replaced with a bright smile that doesn’t show his teeth. “Nice talk, yeah?”

“No,” Hajime says. “We didn’t talk about anything- what are you doing-”

“These talks are always so delightful,” Tooru interrupts him cheerfully, but his eyes dare him to say anything more about that one-sided conversation. “Maybe they’ll last longer next time. Goodbye Hajime!”

Tooru disappears without a second thought in a bright flash of light.

Hajime scowls, shaking his head and heads off to do his job- not wanting to think about lost souls or difficult-to-understand angels. He just wants to do his job.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Takahiro settles himself in front of Hajime when he’s back in their world, burying his hands in front of the paperwork Hajime’s put aside for the past 70 years. (Hajime regrets it, he admits through a string of expletives)

“Do you need help?” Takahiro asks. “I’m not gonna do anything though.”

“Thanks,” Hajime replies dryly. “It’s okay anyways, it’s all just repetition.”

Takahiro looks at Hajime, kicking his legs onto his friend’s lap and wrapping his arms around his torso. “Are you okay? Did Tooru bother you?”

Hajime thinks about the angel, how he had shown something like _weakness_ in front of him. “He didn’t bother me, but…” Hajime bites into his lip, feeling skin pierce and break. “He’s weird.”

“In what way?” Takahiro bites the inside of his lip. “I didn’t think you would change your opinion of him from _complete asshole_ to _weird._ I’m not sure if that’s an upgrade or a downgrade.”

“I’m not sure.” Hajime falls back into his seat. He feels his stomach churn at the thought of Tooru.

“He’s not bad,” Takahiro says, “I can assure you.”

“You told me that, before,” Hajime states. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve met him before,” Takahiro says obscurely, hiding his face. “I’m an angel attractor.”

“That sucks,” Hajime says, then returns to his paperwork, forgetting to focus. “I’m surprised you haven’t lost your sanity yet.”

“I’m close, man. Too close.” He opens his mouth and playfully bites Hajime’s shoulder. “I’ve been touched by many of them. I’m surprised my entire body hasn’t turned into stone yet.”

“How long have you been here?” Hajime asks. Takahiro lets go of Hajime’s shoulder and stays at a standstill for a moment. “‘Hiro?”

“That’s a question for another time,” Takahiro replies, teasingly. “You just want to stall all this paperwork.”

“You got me,” Hajime says back, frowning at Takahiro’s lack of answer. “You should get off, unless you are actually planning on helping.”

“Fuck, Ichi,” Takahiro groans, “I don’t know shit about paperwork, I just make other friends do it.”

“Too bad, you’re going to help me whether you like it or not.”

“Hey, let’s battle this out.” Takahiro leans back and pulls his sleeve up. “Armwrestling, let’s go. If I lose, I’ll help you. If you lose, I get out scotch-free and you buy me some alcohol from Shimizu, since you’re her favourite.”

Hajime grins. “Deal.”

Twenty minutes later, Takahiro grabs a pen and begins to write.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day, when Hajime’s on a free day, someone comes into the grocery store, skin cracked and forming into dust. “Help,” they groan out.

Hajime had been buying ingredients to make a food he had encountered in a memory, with what little plants the Underworld could provide. The person crumbles on their knees in front of him. Before Hajime can help, their hands, basically stone at that moment, curl lightly around his feet and they put their weight on him. “What happened?” Hajime asks. “How did you get like this?”

The scene is familiar to him, but his mind is racing and he’s hoping that it isn’t what he thinks it is.

His hand cracks slightly.

They shake their head, and the grey curls and grabs their skin. “Attacked,” they choke out. They collapse onto the ground. “Angels.”

His mind is full of white noise now.

Hajime helps them move. The other souls carry him and the other boy on his feet to Hajime’s unit. By then, the only magic Yachi can do is heal insignificant parts- like his throat.

Their body freezes, only parts of it barely affected. It takes them almost 20 years to heal. Hajime can’t move for a while after that, because their greyed, stoned hands are clamped on his feet. “I’m sorry,” they mutter, voice broken. “I needed someone’s attention.”

“It’s okay,” Hajime murmurs back.

  
  
  
  
  


He winces when those hands break off and turn into dust. “I’m sorry. I can’t help.”

They look at him in the eyes, staring at him with eyes void of hope. They died young, Hajime knows. Around 16-17 years old, and they look at Hajime, searching for something.

They don’t deserve to be in such pain.

“You can help,” they say, but Hajime feels his stomach churn in fear.

“If you’re trying to tell me what I think you’re going to tell me…”

He’s scared that they have came to the same conclusion as him.

“Kill me?” they ask him, biting their lip with sharp teeth. “My chest is stone because of the angels. I’m barely able to breath as I am right now.”

That’s the first time Hajime feels truly angry at angels.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why?” They take in a deep breath. “I can’t do anything anymore. My body is going to break under a slight pressure. It won’t hurt, you know.”

Hajime chokes up. “You’re young, you can get through this. You must be so close to reincarnation.” Both of them know that Hajime is just stalling the inevitable.

Hajime doesn’t want to think this is the only solution.

“My hands are broken, and I can’t do anything to speed up the memory process.” They take in another shaky breath, exhaling in shuddering puffs. “Just a hit to my body and I’ll break. _Please_. The life I used to live wasn’t that great, but this one was, at least better than the last. I’ll be happy if my being is gone now. Please, Hajime?” they plead.

He shakes his head vehemently. He doesn’t want to. They don’t want to. They repeat the word once again, and Hajime fights back his own tears.

Hajime closes his eyes.

He swings his arm.

They smile at him and he remembers their name.

_Inuoka._

Rest now, rest forever.

“Thank you.”

Hajime hears a crunch, then he doesn’t feel anything under his fist.

Hajime shakes, biting his lip hard. He refuses to look where his ashes may be.

He leaves the unit before the others can come to brush them up. Inuoka’s words are echoing in his head, and Hajime barges into Takahiro’s room with a heaving chest and glassy eyes. Takahiro doesn’t ask, he normally doesn’t in times like these, but he opens his arms and Hajime buries himself in them.

His hands run over Hajime’s back and he whispers the words once again. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to get over it.”

Hajime doesn’t want to.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Slowly, there are more attacks towards his people. They come home from shifts with stone skin and broken limbs that can’t heal back. Hajime doesn’t feel right, and by the time he gets out on his next shift, the day of a chemical explosion from a science lab that left almost two hundred dead, Hajime wants to seek out Tooru.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

The angel is perched on a desk in the subway they left each other in.years ago. “Hajime,” the angel acknowledges, but his thumbs are involved in their own game, fiddling with each other and hands wringing around wrists. “I knew you’d come back,”

He doesn’t feel like dealing with Tooru’s bullshit today.

“Why is your kind terrorizing mine?” Hajime demands, hands curling into fists. “Why the _fuck_ does it feel necessary to mess with us? What is your problem?”

“What are you talking about?” Tooru looks at Hajime in confusion, but Hajime ignores it.

“Are you going to play innocent now? After teasing me and making me think you were somewhat different?” Hajime ignores the way Tooru’s hands fall limp at his side, how his wings flutter slowly into his back. “People have died, because of you. Souls that won’t be able to live another life, because they are gone _forever_.”

Tooru sets himself on the ground, walking towards Hajime with cautious steps. “What do you mean?” he asks again, putting his hands up when Hajime jumps back in his own wariness.

_He’s lying, faking it,_ Hajime tells himself, anger boiling in the pit of his chest and stomach.   _He’s playing you, he’s trying to get into your head._

“You should know what I mean,” Hajime hisses. He thinks of broken hands and stone bodies. “Your stupid angel friends probably devised this goddamn shitty plan. How does it feel to ruin someone like that? Why the hell aren’t you guys already falling from fucking _grace_?”

“Hajime, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Hajime lets out a bitter scoff, throwing hands into pockets and pacing around the room. “You don’t know how angels have been trying to fight demons? About demons _dying_ because of constant hits? We can’t heal, like you.” His hand still feels dry from the last time they collided, but Tooru’s shoulder looks brand new, back to the clear porcelain. “Your kind will beat us down, kick us and pretend they are doing it for a reason other than pure discrimination. They’ll say we started it, that we are the bad ones.”

Tooru shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something but he closes it again, eyes widening.

“Are you like that too?” Hajime growls, but Tooru tightens his fists. “Are you going to hit me too? Are you going to say I provoked you?”

He can faintly hear Chikara’s voice telling him not to try and hit him, and then he hears Takahiro yelling _do it_. He listens to the former, and takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t know,” Tooru whispers in the tense silence. Hajime ignores the way his own chest tightens in a way that says _truth,_ because Tooru is a faker. A damned good one. “I wasn’t involved in it.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Hajime huffs, but he refuses to move within three meters of Tooru’s space. “Tell me, Tooru. Why did you ever get close to me? Was it to make fun of how I, as a demon, was so gullible? Am I an easy target?”

Tooru shakes his head, but words don’t leave his lips. “Angels, I can’t trust them.” Hajime’s eyes narrow, “I guess you can’t trust demons either.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust in me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Allie (@EclecticInkling) for helping me with this au, (and inevitably helping me spiral this out of control)
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/haarucchii)  
> or [tumblr](https://haarucchii.tumblr.com)


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